


Let's Go Build a Rocket

by kipnova



Series: YAMNSverse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, BTW, Castiels family is Loaded, Family Issues, Gen, Homeschooling, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Kid Castiel (Supernatural), Kid Fic, Original Character(s), YAMNS, if you havent pieced it together yet, with a captial L
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2019-12-06 23:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18227003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kipnova/pseuds/kipnova
Summary: Castiel’s first grade math homework is fine and all, but he’s bored. He wants to do something bigger. Something a bit more exciting than single-digit addition.His father can only watch in awe as his youngest son blazes through the worksheets, disregarding the homeschooling curriculum and lesson plans in tandem entirely, with the frustrated determination only a frighteningly brilliant and terribly bored child would possess. “Sometimes I think we should jump straight to building a rocketship,” he mutters.“Well,” Gabriel says, folding his arms. “Why not?”Thus marks the budding of Castiel’s obsession with all things outer space. We can all thank his father for that. Gabe too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As you may or may not have noticed in the tags, I’m introducing an OC into this series. And it’s gonna be Castiel’s father. Usually I lack an understanding for OCs meddling around in fanfic, but considering the options that exist within canon for an AU father figure, I came to the unfortunate conclusion that literally no one treats Castiel with the respect and admiration he would deserve as a child. Therefore I made one of his parents up myself. Enter Christopher Novak. At this time you don't need to know anything about him, other than he's British. But that's more of a fun fact--for now, anyway.  
>   
> Also, another fun fact. The title of this fic is inspired by that one Mary Poppin's song, "Let's Go Fly a Kite." If this fic were to have any sort of theme song, it'd probably be that one.  
>   
> I’m excited for this fic for multiple reasons, but mainly because I’m finally getting around to writing it. It’s been bouncing around in my head for a couple years now (even made an animated short based off of it). That being said, I hope you enjoy this beginning chapter.  
>   
> 

“Alright. Onto the next. Six plus three?”

“Nine.”

“Five plus two?”

“Seven.”

“Two plus s—”

“Eight.”

Christopher stopped walking him through it there. His son was already onto solving the next problem, scribbling it onto the worksheet they printed out earlier that morning. “Well aren’t you just the brightest young lad?”

The pencil kept on moving. “It’s not terribly difficult.”

“I’m impressed. Seems like just yesterday we were still finger counting.”

“Maybe _you_ were.”

Christopher laughed. “Excuse me,” he said in disbelief, “you think I run our business finger counting?”

“I’ve seen you do it before.”

“That doesn’t mean I always need to.”

“But you still do. Sometimes.”

“Only every once in a while.”

“...Sometimes.”

Christopher laughed again, watching as his son continued his way through the worksheet without missing a single beat. “Unbelievable.”

It was only the first grade, but already it was quite obvious Castiel was going to be the brightest of his children. Perhaps it was a natural aptitude, and it was no question that was part of it, but Christopher firmly believed it was his curiosity that would make Castiel excel. Michael was a dutiful student in his time, but he never ventured from the given assignment. He did what was asked of him and never more, Hester too. And God, if only Luke and Gabe would’ve learned to behave themselves and sit still for a single lesson back then. All they wanted was to wrestle or run in the halls until Naomi finally ordered them to wear themselves out in one of the gardens. It was refreshing to have a child who payed attention and wanted to know more. It made him proud.

Halfway through the worksheet Castiel set his pencil down. He sighed. “Can I skip to the next one?”

“I know it’s easy for you, but you’ve got to practice.”

His son looked up at him with a disgruntled pout. “But it’s _too_ easy.”

“Too easy huh?”

“Yes. Boring, in fact.”

“Alright, alright. We’ll take a break and peek at the next lesson. But after that we’re going back to this worksheet. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Christopher flipped to the next few pages of the book, and without being prompted or without even having gone over the lesson, Castiel started on the example problems. It only took a couple minutes of that for Christopher to simply flip to the very last lesson of the book and see if his son could tackle that so effortlessly. Finger-counting was kept hidden under the table and involved yet again, but hell, he was figuring it out.

The distinct clack of Naomi’s heels sounded in the hallway, approaching the doorway of the parlor with purpose.

They stopped just on the other side. Sure enough, the door was opened. “I need you to sign off some papers,” Naomi said. “Not to mention prepare for our ten o’clock.”

Christopher nodded, thanking her for the notification. “In a bit, darling—”

“Now.”

And without giving him the opportunity to talk back, she promptly closed the door and walked off.

“Can’t negotiate with her now, can we?” Christopher teased, standing up. “Think you’ll be able to work on your own?”

“Yeah.”

“I think so too.” Before walking away, Christopher pat his son’s head. “I’ll check back once I’m done, alright? This meeting shouldn’t take more than an hour. There’s a lunch ready in the fridge for you. If you’re still hungry after that, just pester Gabe to make something for you. I don’t believe he’s out on a flight...”

“He’s not. He—” Castiel sighed, loud, “—quite literally ripped me out of bed this morning.”

“Ah. That explains the wimbly hairdo.”

Castiel made a rather indecent face at that, and Christopher laughed. He left the parlor certain his son would get his homework done for today before he even returned. Quite possibly for tomorrow, too.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The library was quiet. The shelves stretched much higher than Castiel expected them to. He hoped Hester was already done tending to the gardens. Because there were big, tall windows opening right up to them.

He tapped his fingers against the door a moment before deciding to step truly in. Closing the door carefully behind him, he pressed his ear against it and counted to ten to make sure there weren’t any footsteps following him.

Knowing he was safe, Castiel turned around. He hopped over to the nearest shelf, grinning ear to ear at the possibilities.

He wasn’t about to get his hopes entirely up and believe he could read any of these books. They were a _lot_ bigger than the ones he was supposed to read. But he figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.

Castiel scanned the spines of many leather bound books across many tall shelves, most of which looked almost exactly the same. “W-O-R-L-D M-Y-T-H-O-L-O-G-Y.” Myth...mytho...mytho-something. “A-C-C-O-U-N-T-I-N-G.” “O-R-W-E-L-L.” “J-A-Z-Z.” Jazz. He knew that one. Gabe made a racket with that one all the time. Castiel moved on.

Eventually he came across a shelf full of books with a word he did recognize. “Math.” Mathematics of this, mathematics of that. Castiel grabbed the stool he spotted underneath one of the writing desks, and set it in front of the shelf. Climbing up, he got on his tiptoes and reached for the book with a cover more glossy and new than the others. It took a couple tries, but by the tips of his fingers he was able to pull it off its shelf. Book in both hands, he jumped back down and sat himself on the stool. He sounded out each letter of the title to himself quietly. "Mathematics of Astronomy.” The cover had a pretty picture of a planet and stars, so naturally that was enough to crack it open.

Castiel flipped to random pages. Some had more pretty pictures, some had graphs, others had just plain words. None of the equations Castiel knew what the heck they meant, what they were used to figure out exactly. Most of the words were too long for him to sound out. Mostly he just liked the pictures. But he enjoyed looking over it all. It felt like a puzzle. A really hard puzzle.

He closed the book and reached for another. Soon enough he discovered that any title bearing the prefix “Astro” in it lead to more pretty pictures and fancy equations. He kept that in mind with the rest of the books he pulled off the shelves and piled onto the floor that sunny afternoon. All the while he snacked on fruit roll-ups he'd stolen from the pantry and stuffed in his pocket after lunch.

Clacking heels, footsteps. Castiel froze in place as he heard them echo in the hall and close in. He hugged the book in his arms and hid behind the shelf. He didn’t bother scrambling to put the rest away, though. Maybe his mother was just going to keep walking...

Nope. The door opened. Crud. With what little noise it made Castiel scooted even further behind the shelf. Good thing he wound up in this little nook. Otherwise he’d be toast.

There was the voice of a man he didn’t recognize. Then his mother laughed. That was a rare enough sound to pique Castiel’s curiosity.

Without a peep he poked his eyes around the shelf. They were too far away for Castiel to see clearly, so he squinted his eyes. That didn’t help much, but he tried again anyway. He wished someone would just take him to an eye doctor already—

The book fell from his lap. Castiel tired to grab it but, it was no use. It clattered on the hardwood floor and of course made the loudest possible noise it could. His mother stepped away from the man. Castiel ducked behind the shelf.

But again, of course, no use. She was already on her way over.

Castiel picked up the book. He looked down at his hands. She stood over him and his mess long enough. Without speaking a word she guilted him into looking  right back up.

“You aren’t supposed to be in here.”

Castiel shrugged, eyes wide. “...Oops?”

Huffing, she yanked him up to his feet by the arm. She pried the book away from him and set it on the shelf. “When's the last time you washed your hands? You're mucking up all these books."

Castiel didn't answer.

She pointed at the pile on the floor. "Did you tear all these down?”

Castiel bowed his head. If only the big tall window had an opening, then he would make a run for it.

“Answer me.”

“ _Yes_.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I teared all the books down.”

“ _Tore_ , Castiel. It’s—” She grabbed his shoulders and turned him towards the door. “Do I have to put a lock on this room too? How many times have I told you not to step foot in here?”

“But Dad says—”

“Christopher doesn’t get the say so. Don’t come back in here again, understand?”

“I’ll clean up the books.”

“No, Castiel. You really won’t.” She gave him a nudge. “Now leave.”

Castiel did as he was told. He marched forward and out the door, putting as much space between him and the strange man as possible as he passed by. He was staring the whole way. Didn’t anyone ever teach him it was rude to stare? Even Castiel knew that.

Out in the hall, Castiel sighed and leant back against on the door. He was shaken up from getting caught. His mom was _scary_. On the other side of the door, Castiel heard her apologize to the man, and he said something about kids being kids. Aside from another laugh here and there, the rest was muffled and too hard to hear.

Well. He already finished his homework. His father was still in that meeting. Bored, Castiel ran off to go pester Gabe for that second lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I don't know what the word "wimbly" means, if it's even a word at all. It just sounded like the perfect order of letters to describe a messy bedhead of hair. If it does in fact mean something and one of you out there knows, feel free to make me aware. I'm only slightly afraid it's some obscure slang for something inappropriate. Only slightly.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, sorry for the delay. but i promised i'd get this chapter to you, didn't i?  
> SIDE NOTE here's an equation that won't be covered in this fic: luke = lucifer

“Alright, punk. Get your teeny tush outta bed. We got some Tunes of the Looney sort to catch.”

Castiel refused to peep open a single eye. Gabe squishing the skin of his face in various manners only made that slightly more difficult to achieve.

“C’mon Cassie.”

“Nn.”

“Don’t make me do this the hard way.”

“Nn-n.”

“I will do it.”

Fine. Castiel at least looked at him. But he didn’t get out of bed.

Gabe smirked down at him, hands perched on his hips. As usual. Ugh. Did he really have to do this to him every Saturday morning? Slowly, Castiel reached for the corner of his pillow.

“Not gonna listen, huh? Well, you asked for—”

Castiel flung the pillow across his brother’s face. That sure seemed to surprise him, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough to slow him down much. He stood up and tossed his blanket up in the air, letting it fall over Gabe’s head. Then he jumped off the other side, giggling, making a break for the door.

“You little turd!”

Just as he was about to reach up for the doorknob, Castiel’s feet were taken out from under him. In fact, they were suddenly very much _above_ him. Squealing, he watched the room turn upside down, and his nightshirt fold over his eyes. As a final defense he kicked, hoping maybe one of them would land on Gabe’s dumb face. But they didn’t. None of them ever did. He was dangled out of the door and down the hall, defeated.

“Sorry, bro. But it’s gonna take a lot more than a pillow to take me down.”

“I’ll get you one of these days.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Mark my words.”

“Huh. Pretty bold words, coming from someone half my size.”

“I’ll smack your legs.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“I’ll trip your feet.”

“In that case we’d both lose. Where’s the fun in that?”

“It’s gonna a lot be more fun than smelling my feet.”

Avoiding the kicks Castiel was still dishing out, Gabe must have agreed to some extent. Castiel chose to believe that the whole way to the stairwell.

“Careful, Gabe,” Luke said as he passed. “You might drop him on his head. Snap his twiggy little neck in half.”

“Dude, shut up.”

“Just saying.”

Luke made a bone cracking noise with his mouth, and it echoed up the well. He continued his way up the stairs. “Me and the gang are gonna go hang out downtown today. You joining or what?”

“Sorry, can’t.”

“No, I’m sorry. Can’t? Why the hell not?”

“I’ve got this little bugger to take care of today. Pop’s orders. You know how it is.”

“Pop’s orders my ass. You always hang out with us. _Gabe_.”

Silently Gabriel just kept stepping down, and soon enough his twin gave up. He set Castiel on his feet at the bottom of the flight. They walked the rest of the way to the first floor kitchen together, Gabriel making jokes the whole way there.

“One freshly poured bowl of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs, coming right up,” he said, opening the pantry wide. Castiel hopped up onto one of the stools behind the counter.

“Again?”

“Yes, again. You’re nowhere near ready for coffee. And there’s no way I’m making myself responsible for the demolition of half our estate via six-year-old caffeine-crazed rampage. Not today, anyway. Therefore, we sugar-shock the brain awake. It’s what we gotta do if we wanna have a productive day.”

“Dad isn’t making us breakfast?”

“Nah, he’s busy. He’s got a lot of grown up adult business money meeting blah blah blah stuff to take care of.”

“Yuck.”

“Yuck indeed. So he put me in charge.”

Castiel shot him a look. “He put _you_ in charge?”

“Yeah, got a problem with that?”

“What about Michael?”

“Alright, alright. Dad put me in charge of _you_. Don’t have to rub it in.”

Gabriel took out two bowls from the cupboards, the milk from the fridge. “But, speaking of, he wanted me to go over yesterday’s English homework with you.”

Castiel made some sort of offended noise at that. “Whaaaat?”

“Uh, yeah. He looked it over, and I hate to break it to you. But he was not impressed.”

Castiel pouted. He sat in silence as Gabriel prepared their breakfast for them. “I heard you were too busy snooping around the library to properly get it done?”

“But I _did_ get it done.”

“Well it wasn’t good enough, apparently. So that’s something you can look forward to this fine Saturday morning. But we can go over other stuff too, if you want. Maybe get ahead of next week’s stuff, yeah?”

Castiel shrugged. He grabbed his spoon. He hated English homework.

“C’mon, Cassie. I can tell you right now, it’d really really impress the guy if we worked on this. I can help you out here. I’ve got a pop quiz coming up, so maybe you can help me out with mine too.”

“If it’s a pop quiz, then how do you know about it?”

“Please. I’ve got eleven grades of this tomfoolery under my belt. I can smell it coming.”

Castiel reached for his bowl, but Gabe slid it away. Castiel tried again, ergo same results. Castiel glared at him. Gabe lifted an eyebrow back. “I’ll teach you a song on the piano.”

“...Fine.”

“Awesome,” Gabriel smiled, pushing the bowl back his way. He ruffled his little brother’s hair and pushed himself off the counter. “But first, the important stuff: morning cartoons.”

They ate in front of the TV in the lounge. They were right on time for Looney Tunes to start, as was always expected during the eight o’clock spot. Gabe made awful Marvin the Martian impressions, and Castiel did his best not to laugh at them. He thought of catapulting a spoonful of of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs right at his face to get him to stop it already, but invariably curious when it went on for the entire hour and into the next, Castiel joined in and tried the voice out himself. Almost immediately, both could agree he had the superior Marvin the Martian impression.

Effectively hyped up with sugar at that point, Castiel wasn’t about to ruin that high with English homework. So Gabriel let him work on a math sheet to get him more in the mood. Not even three minutes later he was done, so Gabriel let him have at another. “Shit. Go any faster, and I might just give you mine,” he teased, “see how much you like it then.”

Of course, that didn’t slow him down one bit.

English quickly became so much more of a drag. Spelling unscrambles. Vocab for three-lettered words. Just about anything else seemed to beg for Castiel’s attention. The spinning of the ceiling fan; the birds perched outside a window; the buttons on his shirt. When asked to finally write his answers, Castiel did so with ease. It was then Gabriel realized it wasn’t a lack of knowledge holding him back. It was an overwhelming lack of interest.

“Well,” he started, looking over the half-completed page of jumbled letters. “This is officially lame.”

“You just figured that out?”

“Hey, not everyone’s a genius. But I think I know exactly what this English lesson needs.”

“What?” Castiel asked dryly, tossing his pencil in the air for the umpteenth time.

Gabriel caught it at the top of its flight. “Some drama. Some pizzazz.”

“Good luck finding any of that in there.”

“Oh, no.” Gabriel picked up the worksheet. He promptly tore it in half. “Forget this stuff. We’re gonna go find it elsewhere.”

Castiel lit up at that, and scooted off the couch. Gabriel picked up their dishes and started out the room.

“Follow me, little bro. I know just the thing.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel had a baggy sweater tied around his neck like a cape. The paperboy cap kept slipping over his eyes. A busted old umbrella must’ve made do for Gabe’s plan; Castiel wasn’t handed anything better.

“Alrighty.” Gabriel stood before him with his own make-do cape that he’d snatched from the floor of his closet. “First thing you gotta know about this Shakespeare guy: he’s stupid hard to read. Now we’ve dumbed down quite a lot as a species since the fifteen hundreds, so just keep in mind it ain’t his fault.”

“Okay?”

“Second: he really, _really_ liked pickles. Unnecessary fact for now, but important nonetheless.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it for a second.”

“Good. Well, that’s about all I’ve got to say about him. Haven’t exactly been paying enough attention in class to know more. I’ll update you on the deets when I can.”

Clearing his throat, Gabriel flipped through a paperback till he found the page he was looking for. “Half these words _I_ can’t even read, so we don’t gotta follow the script exactly right. But, just to give you a little taste of what we’re diving into exactly…”

He puffed up his chest. He glanced up at the ceiling light, widened eyes, pursed lips and all. He settled slow into a haughty pose, reaching the book far out in front. “ ‘If I can fasten but one cup upon him, With that which he hath drunk tonight already, He’ll be as full of quarrel and offense as my young mistress' dog. Now my sick fool Roderigo, Whom love hath turned almost the wrong side out, To Desdemona hath tonight caroused Potations pottle-deep, and he’s to watch.’

Gabriel sucked in a breath. “And that was just the first two sentences.

“ ‘Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits (That hold their honors in a wary distance, The very elements of this warlike isle) Have I tonight flustered with flowing cups, And they watch too. Now ’mongst this flock of drunkards,’ blah blah blah. Blah, blah blah.”

Gabriel tossed the book over his shoulder and it plopped onto his bed. “Basically, this dude named Iago wants to get a bunch of soldiers rowdy and drunk and start a big fight so that this guy named Cassio gets fired from his job. Cassio is important because he’s basically the main character’s BFF.”

Gabriel sat himself at his desk, kicking up his feet. He flicked his cape open and let it drape over the edge of his chair. He snatched up the cane resting on the side of the desk and tapped it over Castiel’s shoulders. “Now. On behalf of the English populace and the Royal Court, I dub thee Cassio. Totally not because the names almost match, by the way. And I dub me-self Montano, a soldier simply minding the heck out of my own business. You approach me drunk and angry and a little unhinged, ready to swipe at anyone who dares question your character. That is where our little play shall begin. Think you can play the part?”

Castiel rose his hand. Wooden cane in hand, Gabe pointed at him. “Yes. You in the front with the Bambi eyes.”

“What’s drunk and unhinged?”

“Excellent question. Remember how Mick got at our last Christmas party?”

“Yes.”

“Just like that.”

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed. So. You wanna get this party started or what?”

Castiel blinked at him. Then he blinked at the umbrella dangling out of his hand. Then he charged at his brother yelling, winding that umbrella far behind his head as he could.

Gabriel blocked the swing with his cane, effortlessly of course. “Not so festinate, buddy boy. Thou must tryeth hard'r than a ravaged gib to rouse me from mine own sitting chair.”

“Thou must shuteth his big dumb mouth and fight me.”

“Ha! Thee hath but mere twiggish forks and arms. Such is not worthy of mine bodkin.”

Castiel swung repeatedly at him, with the sudden energy a second-wave sugar high would bring. And Gabe, he deflected each and every hit. “Pray tell, Cassio. What maketh thee so nimble-footed?”

“You smelleth of rotten cheese.”

“Valorous case. And so, prepareth to square!” Gabe kicked himself up to his feet. Castiel got in one hit then, but oh. No way. No way was he letting that happen again. “I shall paunch thy corse in twain, insolent dog!”

In a flash Gabriel switched to the offense, brandishing and swinging the cane like a sword. Castiel screamed again, but that didn’t slow him down. That’s what he asked for, so that’s what he got. Soon they were chasing each other around the room, weaving between tables and couch, jumping and rolling over the bed to catch one another on the other side. Though he was small, Gabriel still found the little bugger to be fast. He even got away with ducking under Gabriel’s legs not once, but twice. On the third time Gabriel declared that the last straw, and he chased Castiel out into the hallway. They ran down the stairs and through another hall, zipping past Hester on the way. Startled, she dropped her folder and papers went flying. No time to apologize, though. No time to explain. There was a hyped-up, rambunctious drunkard on the loose.

They played cat and mouse all the way through the foyer. They yelled more ye olde insults and threats at one another, Gabriel at least somewhat taken aback at being called a slimy toad. After that, well he knew that that was it. They were to settle this like men.

Gabriel stopped were he was and spread out his arms. “Avast! I beg of you noble Cassio, be civil. No more of this foolish—”

Castiel struck him in the ribs. Gabriel stumbled back, surprised, hurt, ashamed, defeated. He clung to his wound and fell to his knees.

Castiel struck him again, to be thorough most certainly.

“Oh!” Gabriel groaned, “A mortal strike! A deadly attack! What could offend you so profound to bestow upon me such certain demise!”

Dramatically as he could muster, he collapsed onto the hardwood floor. The cane rolled from his hand and clattered to a stop. He gripped the fabric of his shirt tight, stuttered and shortened breaths heaving out of his nose.

“I’m afraid this is it. Oh my soul, it yearns for Heaven, yet...yet Hell reaches out from the soil. I can feel it. Pray for me, Cassio. Pray for mine wavering light.”

Castiel stood over him, tapping the end of his weapon against his brother’s chest. “Any last words?”

“Closer,” Gabriel whispered, beckoning him. “I beseech you, leaneth closer…”

He did what was asked. Castiel set down his blade and knelt beside him. Blindly, Gabriel reached for a hand, and he breathed easier when they folded together.

“Usually under such circumstances, I’d have you tell my fair Kali that...that I love her,” Gabriel said sweetly, peering off into the distance. But then his smirk turned devilish. The grip on his brother’s hand tightened. “But I know thy veritable weakness.”

Castiel’s eyes bugged wide. He tried to pull himself free, but it was no use. Within seconds Gabriel had himself on his feet and his brother dangling upside down again. Gravity kicked in, pulling his shirt away from his waist and over his eyes. Bare belly, meet mouth. To Zerbert Central they went.

Castiel screamed, kicking and laughing, but again, no use. “You shall succumb, the awesome power of that which zerberts bestow!”

“Stop it! Stop! Gabe!”

“Gabe? Who is this Gabe? He sounds a fool. For I am Montano, rando soldier number three, bringer of belly farts to thee!”

And bringeth on the belly farts, did he.

Gabriel suspected his little brother to pass out from all the excitement any minute now. But such was not the case. Instead their mother had to storm in and ruin the fun.

“Gabriel, enough. Your father and I can hardly concentrate.”

“Aw, lighten up ma. We’re just having a little bit of—”

“I said enough. Either help him with his homework as we instructed, or take your racket elsewhere.”

“We’ve got a big enough house. Why can’t _you_ just take _your_ racket ‘elsewhere’?”

The glare. The folding arms. Naomi might as well have started tapping her foot to fit in all nine yards of an angry, impatient parent. Gabriel almost didn’t care.

“Whatever nonsense you’re pulling, drop it. Help him with his homework.”

“But I already—”

“ _Now_.”

Their mother didn’t leave any more room to argue. After one last glare at Castiel dangling in Gabe's arms, she left the room with a firm yet dignified close of the door.

Castiel looked up at Gabe. Gabe looked down at him. He set his brother back on his feet and sighed. “Well. She did tell us to stop making a racket with the play. But you know what she didn’t tell us?”

“What?”

“To stop making a racket with the piano. Wanna bang some keys for a bit?”

At that, Castiel grinned. They raced to the opposite wing of the house, where an ebony grand awaited them in the music room.

Gabriel sat down on the bench first. Then he picked Castiel up and set him on his lap. Cracking his fingers, he decided to skip the warm up and went straight for a song.

“What’s this one?” Castiel asked.

“Mm. _Piano Sonata_...number-something-or-other. Beethoven wrote it.”

“Oh. How can you play it without the paper?”

“Simple, Cassie. Practice.”

“Oh.”

Castiel watched his hands flutter across the keys. Even with practice, he didn’t know how his brother managed to hit every single one of them right. That was still a lot of notes. He still had ten fingers to keep track of at once.

“Hey Gabe?”

“Yes?”

“How come Cassio and Montano were fighting?”

“Excellent question.” Without missing a beat, Gabriel continued to play as he answered. “In a nutshell, Iago, the main villain of the story, wanted them to. He knew it would get Cassio fired from his job.”

“Did Cassio do something bad?”

“No. Not once.”

“Then why does...uh, Ego want him fired?”

“Another excellent question.” Gabriel took a moment to think over his response. “It’s a long story. And I’ve got my theories, but if there’s anything you should take away from today’s English class, it’s that some people just wanna sit back watch the world burn. Iago is one of them.”

“Oh.” Castiel blinked, eyes following Gabe’s hand that reached for the lower notes. “Kind of like Luke?”

Gabriel laughed, and for the first time he missed a note. That actually made him miss a note.

“ _Exactly_ like Luke.”

Gabriel finished the sonata without any further mistake. It wasn’t until he started a new song that Castiel spoke up again.

“Gabe?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Why do mom and dad fight?”

This one Gabriel did know the name of:  _3 Gymnopédies: No. 1,_ Erik Satie.

“I don’t know.”

“Yeah you do. Why do they fight so much?”

Gabriel rested his chin on the top of Castiel’s head. He answered, without missing a beat. “Because they’re lame.”

“ _Gabe_.”

He stopped. With the last lingering note the room fell into silence. Gabriel looked around. Gabriel breathed. He took Castiel’s hands under his own and placed them on the keys. Together they started the song over, Gabriel guiding his fingers through each note himself.

“You know mom. She’s stubborn as a rock. Dad just wants her to cool her jets. That’s all.”

“So? Why do they have to _fight_ over it?”

“Because they’re dumb grown ups, and dumb grown ups like to fight over dumb things.”

With the extra set of hands it wasn’t as easy to stay on tempo, but so far they were making it through alright. Gabriel worked the pedals for them both.

“We can ask why all day, but even then we wouldn’t really know. I say it’s because they’re dumb and lame, plain and simple as that. But that doesn’t seem to satisfy you much, huh?”

Castiel didn’t say anything further. At the end of the song, Gabriel decided to go for something a little more upbeat. _Je te veux_ was an easy choice. It wasn’t too fast, wasn’t too complicated. Gabriel took care of the notes Castiel’s fingers were too short to reach. Once the song really kicked in, Castiel started bobbing his head to the beat. Gabriel took that as a good sign.

“Hey, little bro?”

“What?”

“Promise me you won’t ever grow up like they did?”

Castiel made some sort of disgusted noise at that. “If it means having to wear a suit? Never ever _ever_ , in a bazillion million years.”

Gabriel laughed. “Good. I promise not to either.”

Castiel looked up at him, eyes wide and blue. “Pinky swear?”

Smiling, Gabriel ruffled his hair and hooked their digitus minimus mani together. “Pinky swear.”

They started the next song with fresher air than the last one had end.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“You have yet to explain to me why this needs to change.”_

_“If you were listening to me, you’d know that I—”_

_“Our numbers are going up. Way up. Way more than they have in years!”_

_“Oh for God’s sake, Naomi! Money. Is not. The issue here!”_

_“It will be if you don’t—”_

Castiel tossed in his bed. They yelled over each other, more and more, enough to make Castiel give up on deciphering any sense from it at all. Groaning, he stuffed his head under a pillow in hopes it’d help. It didn’t. He could still hear them through the walls.

It was never much of a surprise to hear his mother upset. What he didn’t like hearing was his father. He never got loud like this, never mean. Why did his mom make him so loud?

Castiel sighed a long sigh. He chucked the pillow off to the side. He glanced at the clock sporting some hour far past his bedtime. He shut his eyes and counted sheep jumping in the clouds. He played catch with himself, tossing up his stuffed animals over and over. He stared at the ceiling fan spinning round and round. He hummed a song he remembered from the piano earlier that day.

But they were louder. They were _always_ louder.

Castiel sighed again. He hopped out of his bed. He walked out of his room, tugging a blanket and pillow along with him. He didn’t bother sneaking his way down the hall; even if he stomped around yodelling and banging pots together, there’s no way they could’ve heard him make it past their room.

Castiel pushed open the heavy, creaky door to the library (looks like his mother had yet to put on that lock after all). He stepped in, clicking the flashlight he’d found on the way. The pile of books he’d made was cleaned. The shelves stood quiet and tall in the shadows, the moonlight beaming softly through the windows to meet the fibers of the carpet. The library was silent and calm, just as he’d found it yesterday afternoon—an immediate relief.

Having remembered the way, Castiel put himself in front of the Mathematics shelf. Using the same stool, inching his fingers and toes up to the same shelf, he grabbed the book with the glossy hardcover and set it on the floor. With his blanket and two armchairs he built a fort over the Astronomy book, using two other books he’d taken from lower shelves to anchor the blanket in place. He threw his pillow in the middle of the cocoon, laid himself down, and started reading.

Or, he tried to anyway. Still it remained that most of the words didn’t make a lot of sense, but he remembered the pictures. He drew connections between the two, and that helped. From a graph in Chapter 10 he learned that a so-called “black hole” looked like some sort of fishing net pulled tight. From another residing in the back of the book, he saw the night sky laid out and mapped in patterns. “Con-stell-a-tions.” Constellations. He traced the lines between stars with his finger, attempting to read more about them in a blurb printed below.

There were the equations again. They looked like math, with equal signs and division lines, but then there were parts of the alphabet thrown in. That’s where all understanding truly fell apart for Castiel. English should stay where English belongs, he thought, flipping to some other page.

Rarely was he able to sound out an entire sentence, let alone understand it. But he kept at it. He knew with practice and time it would come to him eventually. Like learning to count to a hundred, or Gabe playing the piano. Even if he could only make little sense of it, at least he could make sense of it at all.

He read that book in the library till his head grew too heavy to hold. He read himself to sleep the next three nights in a row.

Castiel was working his way through a chapter on dwarf stars, when he heard the library door creak open.

He clicked off the flashlight. Crud. He knew he shouldn’t have left the door cracked.

Footsteps neared, and Castiel backed himself against the wall. He curled his fingers over his toes, buried his nose in his knees. A hand pulled the entrance of his fort open, and he held his breath. He really wasn’t supposed to be in here…

It was his father. “Castiel? It’s not even midnight anymore, what are you doing in here?”

Castiel didn’t say a thing. He only shrugged.

His father knelt down. He eyed the open book on the floor. “Getting in your pages, I see.”

Again, he only shrugged.

His father picked up the book, but he didn’t put it away. He looked over the page Castiel was on, and he didn’t turn it to another.

“This is a college textbook, you know,” he said, “used to be my brother’s. Even I can’t understand this stuff.”

“I like to try.”

Christopher hummed. It only took him half a second to decide what to do next.

“Well. Might as well figure it out together then.” Best as he could without tearing any of it down, he crawled into the fort and joined Castiel at his side. He had to hunch over, but with just enough space he fit. “Looks like you’ve moved in.”

It was true, Castiel had torn most if not all blankets and sheets from his bed at this point. And he’d gathered enough pillows to create a makeshift bed that fit him and all his stuffed animals. But he wasn’t about to admit how many nights he’d spent putting it together. That’d most certainly get him in trouble.

“When we were kids, Balth and I made these sort of forts all the time. It’s almost like we thought our house was too big. We had to keep making tiny little ones to live in instead...”

Castiel frowned. “You aren’t mad at me?”

Christopher set the book down, careful. “Mad at you? Of course not. Why would I mad?”

Castiel wrung his arm. He looked away. “Mom says I’m not supposed to be in here. She thinks I’ll just make a mess.”

“This isn’t a mess. It’s cool in here. I like it.”

“Then you won’t tell her, right?”

Christopher looked to his son’s eyes. They were a lot more worried than they should’ve been. Droopy and tired too, so he continued to wonder why he was up this late. But mostly, they were worried.

“I’m going to tell you a secret about me,” he said, “and you have to promise not to tell.”

Castiel held out his pinky. “I promise.”

Christopher smiled as they linked pinkies. He knew to his son, these were the most serious of promises.

“Your mother often tells me I shouldn’t eat any junk food, especially if I’m taking a rare minute to just sit around and rest. But you know what?”

Christopher beckoned his son to lean in closer. Castiel did so gladly, pointing his ear up towards his dad.

“I do it anyway,” he whispered. “See, what’s the point in sitting around doing nothing, if you can’t have yourself a little treat to enjoy it? What’s the point in having a library, if you can’t read books and build forts in it?”

The worry in Castiel’s eyes was gone. The curve to his lips turned mischievous. Christopher put a finger against his own, gesturing him to stay quiet. “Let’s keep that between you and me. You won’t spill my secret, and I won’t spill yours. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Fantastic. I’ll write up an official agreement first thing tomorrow morning. We’ll shake on it then.”

Castiel laughed, and his father was glad to hear it. He picked up the book and brought his attention to it. “Now then. You wouldn’t mind if I joined you, no?”

“Dad, do you want mom cool her jets?”

“What?”

“I don’t know. That’s what Gabe called it. He said that’s why you two fight all the time. You want her to ‘cool her jets.’ ”

At that, Christopher frowned. “So you heard us earlier, huh?”

“I always do.”

He nodded. Of course Castiel heard them. How could he ever believe he didn’t?

Christopher looked down. He folded his hands in his lap. “Well it’s never anything serious, so you don’t have to worry about—”

“If it’s not serious, then why does it happen all the time?” Castiel was practically demanding an answer. In an instant that mischievous attitude was gone, fast as it appeared. “Why do you get so loud?”

“Because even the people who love each other most get mad at one another sometimes,” he said, and he said so without hesitation. “I’m sorry I get so loud. I never meant to scare you.” Even now his throat felt rough.

“It doesn’t scare me. It just makes me sad.”

As if it suddenly made all the sense in the world and none whatsoever, Castiel’s face crumpled into tears. He cried into curled fists, and immediately Christopher decided that wasn’t going to go on a second longer. He wrapped his arms around his son and let him cry into his side. “I’m sorry,” he said, soft as he could muster. “It’s going to be okay. Your mother and I are going to be okay…”

Christopher didn’t hide it when tears of his own started to well. His son shouldn’t learn to bury the pain for another day.

Stunted breaths were passed, noses and eyes were wiped. Once the calm restored, Christopher assumed his son had drifted to sleep. Quietly, he started flattening out one of the many blankets that was taken into this fort.

“Are you still going to read to me?”

Christopher looked down at his son. Castiel looked back up, blinking tired yet hopeful eyes at him.

Christopher nodded. “Of course.”

He wrapped the blanket around their shoulders. He set the textbook in front of them. He held one side of the cover and Castiel held the other. Clicking it on, Castiel pointed the flashlight at the page and leant against his father’s side.

“So, red dwarfs,” Christopher started, glancing over the page, “what can you tell me about them?”

“Um...they’re small?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. That’s why they’re called dwarfs. But they’re still really, really big. Bigger than planets.”

“Oh wow. Bigger than all planets?”

“I don’t know.”

Christopher hummed, impressed Castiel gleaned anything from the text in the first place, especially with so much already on his mind.

He cleared his throat, and started reading, “ _Chapter three, section two: Red Dwarfs. Introduction. There is a multitude of objects spanning our known universe that at first glance take such feeble and ordinary form, yet reveal themselves as quite powerful and complex the more we look. Such an object would be that of a red dwarf star…_ ”

Christopher read to him until his eyelids grew heavy as lead. They fell gently into sleep, book and flashlight in hand, one another in blanket and arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh yeah, and by the way. gabriel did in fact receive a pop quiz in his English class. and he did in fact fail it. whoops?


	3. Chapter 3

Christopher toyed with the tag hanging from his cup of tea. He held up the weight of his head in his hand. He blinked his eyes slow. He was tired. He was very tired.

He sat across the table from Castiel, both still donning their pyjamas. The half-eaten Eggos he’d prepared earlier were long forgotten and cold. He could only watch in droopy-eyed awe as his youngest son blazed through the worksheets, disregarding the homeschooling curriculum and lesson plans in tandem entirely, with the frustrated determination only a frighteningly brilliant and terribly bored child would possess.

Christopher yawned—loud. They’d been staying up reading far past either of their bedtimes for two weeks now. Whatever kept his son this focused, he almost wished Castiel would out with it already and give some of it up to him too.

Somebody zipped past the archway. When they came to a halt and backpedalled their way into the dining room, Christopher saw that it was Gabriel.

“Good morning,” Christopher said. “Running late again, I see?”

“Eh. Just a smidge.” Gabriel had a notebook tucked under one of his arms. He set his backpack on the table and promptly shoved the notebook in. “Morning, little bro! You still up for that trip to the bakery after school?”

Castiel didn’t answer. Not to Gabriel, anyway. Just the homework. 

Gabriel tried again. “Six times seven?”

“Forty-two.”

Oh. So he could answer _that_.

Gabriel folded his arms. “It might be too early to tell,” he muttered to his father, leaning in, “and I’m just shooting darts here. But. I’m pretty sure he’s gonna be the one that invents an A.I. smart enough to enslave and doom the human race.”

“No kidding. I honestly don’t know anymore whether to be terrified or proud.”

“Try out both. See which one feels right.”

Christopher hummed his assent. Castiel finished the worksheet. Without being asked, he turned to the next. The fourth one this morning.

“Sometimes I think we should jump straight to building a rocketship.”

“A rocketship, huh?” Gabriel snatched up an apple from the fruit bowl on the table. Upon taking a bite, he spoke with his mouth full. “Well. Why not?”

He dished out a speed round of side hugs to them both. When it was his turn, Castiel got an extra pat on the head. That didn’t seem to break his concentration much either.

“Later dude,” he said, rushing towards the hall. “Later pops.”

“Hey,” Christopher chimed, stopping him before he could run out entirely. “Your uniform."

"What about it?"

"You're missing your vest."

"It's in the wash."

"You should have four more."

Gabriel folded his arms. He rolled his eyes. "Ask Luke about them."

"Huh. Where's Luke anyway? You aren’t taking off with him?”

Gabriel shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s in one of his signature moods.”

“Signature moods?”

“You know what I mean. He wouldn’t speak a word to me this morning. Like I wanted him to anyway...”

“I see. I’ll take care of it. Just button up your jacket for now. Hopefully your teachers won't notice.”

“Okey-dokes. Gonna go now—”

“One more thing.”

Gabriel stopped again, groaning. “Whaaaaat?”

“I understand that you’re running late, but you aren’t going to get another speeding ticket, are you?”

“I would hardly call that last one speeding.”

An eyebrow was raised. Rightfully so. “You were going thirty over the limit.”

“Hey Cassie. What’s thirty minus three?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Bingo. Twenty-seven, pops. I was going twenty-seven over. Not thirty.”

Christopher blinked. He shrugged. “Just get to class late if you have to. No speeding.”

“No promises!”

Christopher waved him off, and at that Gabriel officially left the room.

“Oh,” Christopher grumbled, rubbing his forming headache away, “and I’ve entrusted him with an airplane...”

He turned back to Castiel. “Don’t you think for a second that I’ll let you get your license until _you’re_ thirty-minus-three. With that lovely driving record we’ve established for ourselves, and all. You understand, yes?”

Castiel didn’t respond. Christopher double-checked that the packet he brought out of curiosity this morning was in fact meant for fourth-graders. It was.

Yep. Frighteningly brilliant and terribly bored indeed.

His father was intent on fixing that. It wasn’t until they were in the library with the moon hanging above that Christopher mentioned the building of a rocketship again. This time Castiel heard him, and this time, he got excited.

“A rocket ship?” Castiel wondered. “You mean like the ones in the book?”

“I don’t see why not.” Christopher almost said it can’t be rocket science. But he stopped himself right on time. “You’re sure are smart enough.”

“Oh! We can build it out of all those old cars we have sitting in the garage.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. There’s enough metal and leather seats in there for an entire space fleet. Then we can build a launch pad in the backyard! Or over on one of the hills. What do you think?”

“The backyard will do just fine.”

“I think so too. That way we don’t have to carry supplies so far. Unless we’re getting more stuff from the Home De-Pot. Then maybe somewhere else besides the backyard would be even better.”

“Yes, the transport of materials is all very important to consider. It’ll be peanuts compared to the distance we’ll cover in space, though.” Christopher lied on his back. He waved his arms toward the ceiling, pretending to gaze at the sky. “I can see it now. You and me aboard the uh, the Novak Starship. We can come up with a more creative name later—”

At that Castiel gasped. He clutched his father’s arm, and stood straight as much as he could in their fort. “Dad!”

“Castiel!”

“Do you think we could go to the moon?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Castiel’s eyes widened. Beaming from them was amazement. Wonder. Even when his serious side kicked in. “Dad. Do you think we can visit another star?”

“We might have to figure out a way to tear open one of those so-called wormholes on the way, but sure.”

“Yay! We’re going to the stars, we’re going to the stars,” Castiel singsonged, nearly jumping on the pillows and blankets. “I hope we see something really cool. Like a binary star system. Or a black hole!”

“That would be very neat.”

“Yeah! We’ll be the first people to see them in person! We’ll make history!”

Christopher laughed. His son went on babbling about all the extraordinary things they’ll see and do. Without an ounce of doubt, Castiel declared they’d be the first astronauts to visit Mars. The first astronauts to leave the entire solar system. He riled himself up over visiting formations Christopher knew they’d read about once it was mentioned, but was already forgetting himself. Just two weeks, and already his son was retaining so much. For a while he was afraid it’d take much longer to find what Castiel would be passionate about. But this was it. This is what he loved.

And for that Christopher knew, with all the certainty he could muster, that they had to make this rocketship happen.

 

 

* * *

  

 

They started out with drawings.

Every great rocketship needed a great design, that much both of them knew. So Christopher gave his son some paper and crayons, along with a couple more books he pulled off the shelf to use as reference if needed. Christopher made the excuse that it was for his art lessons when asked, but in actuality this whole project slowly took over entire schooldays. Lesson plans were reformed. History was no longer about glorified politicians. It was the biographies of famous astronauts and engineers. And math was no longer simple fill-in-the-box. It was, “If Gabe held two hundred stars in his hands but Luke took away fifty-seven, how many would Gabe have left?”

And finally art was where it all came together. The drawings were as good as any child could make them, but Castiel was intent. With every new iteration he came running to his father, and Christopher was delighted that there was a deliberate improvement each time with the science in mind. Rotating solar panels that could always face the sun, no matter which way the ship was tumbling through space. Boosters on each side for better control. Cup holders. The cockpit definitely needed more cup holders.

When Christopher wasn’t busy ramming his head into the wall over business meetings and paperwork, he’d join Castiel on his drawing sessions too. Once or twice Castiel even waited outside the conference rooms for him to come out, unable to keep his ideas to himself any longer. Together they walked away and came up with more and more ideas for the ship. They ran a test with taped-up paper towel rolls. They fell asleep coloring in designs on the floor of the library. It wasn’t long before Castiel stood proud in his room, facing the wall littered in copy and construction paper alike.

He folded his arms. He smiled up at his father. “It’s perfect,” he said, nodding to affirm.

Christopher glanced over the finalized design himself. He nodded in affirmation as well. “Perfect indeed. It’s sleek, aerodynamic, under budget, and has enough cupholders to keep the entire crew happy. Congratulations, Castiel. The board has approved your designs. We start construction first thing tomorrow morning.” He reached out a hand to shake.

Castiel skipped the handshake. He went straight for a hug. Christopher didn’t deny him that.

But they didn’t start first thing the next day. They couldn’t. Christopher was stuck trying to close a deal with a client overseas, and they made it very clear they were not going to be visiting the area again anytime soon. Naomi did everything in her power to keep her husband in line and make him get done what needed to get done for the company. After all of that, he didn’t have enough time to make a trip to the store. Nor the day after that, for that matter.

The weekend. Christopher promised Castiel they’d get to it over the weekend. He asked Gabe to help make schematics in the meantime.

“Dad said _he_ would help me with this,” Castiel pouted, sitting himself at the table.

Gabe dropped his backpack onto the chair just across. He took out two pens and a ruler. “You know, I’m a little hurt. All this time you two’ve been planning secret missions to outer space, and you haven’t even asked me to be your pilot yet.”

“That’s because you’re bad at it.”

Gabe gasped, putting on a face. “ _Excuse_ you? Care to run that by me again?”

“I said you’re _bad_ at it. B-A-D.”

“Huh. Well. Thanks for spelling it out, Einstein.”

“You told me to.”

Gabe looked down. He rolled out the paper their father handed him. He took out the scissors and started cutting. “What makes you think I’m so bad at it?” he asked quietly.

“You made me puke.”

“So? Everybody pukes their first flight.”

“That was my third. Dad took me out to some before you. And you’re scary. I thought you lost control when you put the plane in a nosedive.”

“Oh. That explains why you passed out.”

Castiel flashed him some sort of scathing “you think?” face, then turned to the paper. He picked up a pen and started scribbling on the corner.

Gabriel sat himself down. He grabbed the ruler and started making straight lines down and across. He blew a bubble with his gum and popped it loud, chewing it loud too. “It was still a fun flight though, right?”

It took him a second, but Castiel smiled. “Yeah. It was.”

“Knew it.” Gabriel didn’t try hiding the proud little smirk that came out of hearing that. “So. Do I get to join your little dream team or what?”

“Yeah. You can join.”

“As pilot?”

“...As co-pilot.”

“We’ll work the details out later.”

Gabriel made it a habit to replicate technical drawings of airplanes when he was bored, so the rocket ship schematics were a piece of cake. Castiel etched them in with a pencil, and Gabriel went over with a marker to tie down and smooth things out.

Castiel thought his brother was a really good drawer. Maybe even better than their dad. Gabe didn’t need to puff up his chest any more than he already did though, so Castiel kept quiet about it as they worked. He tried copying the same swooping motions Gabe made with the curves of the wings. It didn’t work out quite so nice for him, though. The eraser was used many times. Gabe cranked up his tunes at some point, and that seemed to help keep them in motion.

Once they were done, Castiel set down his pencil and stood on his chair. He looked over their schematics. There wasn’t a mistake in sight.

He hopped down and went for the door, taking the paper with him.

“Hey, careful with that,” Gabriel said. “You’re gonna wrinkle it up.”

That didn’t stop him from running out into the hall. “I’m being careful!”

“Where are you going with it?”

“To show Dad!”

“But...uh, it’s not ready!”

“Yeah it is!”

”Hey, Cassie! Just get back here, okay? Don’t—”

Castiel smiled. What could he say? He was excited. He wanted to show off the progress to their dad.

He rounded the corner to find his parent’s bedroom door open and his mother walking out of it.

As immediately as he could, Castiel stopped running. He kept his head low, but he knew she definitely noticed. But she didn’t seem to care. Castiel hardly got a glance as they passed by one another. He didn’t know what to make of the silence. Of the expression on her face.

Castiel tip-toed his way to the rest of the room. He peeked around the door and into the opening, and there his father was. Sitting at the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, face in hand. He looked like a _statue_. He didn’t even notice when Castiel approached, careful to keep the paper from making too much noise as he held it behind his back.

“Dad?”

His father’s head shot up. He hid his face behind the corner of his sleeve for a moment, but after that he threw on a smile. “Oh, hello Castiel. Hi.”

“Hello.”

“Yes I’m alright, I’m—um. What’s this?” He asked, pointing to the paper.

Castiel hesitated. He brought it between them, handing it over. “Gabe and I finished the semantics.”

“The _semantics,_ yes. Yes indeed,” Christopher laughed. He stretched out the paper flat and looked over the design.

He nodded. “Excellent. These will be of excellent use. You let Gabe sign the bottom here, though? That means he gets to take all the credit, you know. You better sign this yourself too.”

“Okay,” Castiel said slowly, taking the paper back. Then his father stood from the bed and reached for his jacket. His suit jacket.

“Well. Your mother and I just got out of a...a discussion, and it looks like—“

“We’re not going to start building today, are we?”

Christopher walked over to his dresser. Without facing his son, he situated his watch around his wrist.

“Dad?”

He sighed. “No, I’m afraid we can’t today.”

Christopher turned around, bracing himself. Castiel looked ready to rip the paper in half.

“But," Christopher amended, putting on a smile, "that’s because _today_ , we’re heading down to the build-it store and shopping for supplies. You and me.”

Castiel let himself light up at that, but not too much. “Really?”

“Really.”

“When are we leaving?”

“Soon as I’m ready.”

Castiel made a celebratory noise at that, and Christopher reinforced that smile. “You’ve got the list tucked in your room somewhere, yes?”

“I’ll go get it!” At that, Castiel ran off to his bedroom. Christopher told him to meet in the garage, and before anyone could stop them they got the car started and out the gate. The whole way to the store they played I-Spy, and based on his son’s performance, Christopher reminded himself to schedule an eye appointment for the umpteenth time. But he decided that could wait for later. Everything else would have to wait for later, too.

By the time they returned home, it was dark. Castiel had tuckered himself out on the drive back, blabbing about all the different ways they were going to use the various materials they bought. Between aggressive yawns and healthy doses of justified childhood nonsense, Castiel somehow arrived to the sound conclusion that bumblebees were necessary to add to their list, just before he officially dozed off across the back seat.

Christopher carried him inside. Gabriel was in the parlor, finishing off the remains of a triple-decker sandwich. Michael caught Christopher in the hall and let him know what meetings he missed. Luke bitterly reminded him of all the exceptions that were never made for _him_ as a kid. Christopher just did what he could. He tucked his son in bed.

Castiel was sleeping with a smile on his face, and his father wasn’t about to ruin that. Instead of heading off to his own room where Naomi was surely waiting, he went for the library. If she wanted to have another argument, she could wake him up off the floor and have it in there, away from everyone else.

The fort was dismantled. Their book was removed from the shelf and nowhere to be found.

Christopher bit his tongue. Christopher rolled up his sleeves. He gathered some extra bedding in a guest room just down the hall and used that. He plucked another book off the shelf and found a place of his own to hide it. Whatever energy he had left for the night, he spent it building a new fort for himself and his son. He fell asleep there.

Castiel bounced him awake early in the morning, hardly noticing the change. No matter. Operations were migrating to the garage-turned-lab today anyway. Christopher promised him that—pinky swear style.


	4. Chapter 4

“Safety scissors. Cardboard. Ruler. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Castiel replied, smiling and kicking his feet. He handed each material and tool to his father when asked. Christopher kept his nose deep in some instruction manual, muttering to himself step by step. He was diligent in his cutting of the cardboard, his measurement of each piece. He had Castiel on quality control, who was double-checking that his father was doing everything the way he was supposed to. So far he seemed to know what he was doing, so Castiel didn’t say much when a piece here and there was off an inch or two.

Castiel sighed. He distracted himself by watching his feet dangle off the barstool. Then he kicked the leg of the table and sent his chair spinning in circles.

“Careful, Castiel. You’re going to make yourself sick if you aren’t careful.”

“It’s astronaut motion sick training. Like in the book.”

“Ah. My mistake. Might I help spin you around faster then?”

“Yes!”

His father laughed. He set down whatever part of their prototype they were working on. It looked like a wing.

He set his hands on the back of the chair and inspected it thoroughly. “Engines running smoothly. Thrusters are a go. Prepping launch sequence. T-minus ten, nine, eight…”

Castiel looked up at him and spread his arms out. They counted down the rest together, Christopher spinning the chair faster and faster until they reached zero. “Lift off!” he exclaimed, and Castiel went laughing. The lights and sounds and walls of the garage tumbled round and round. His head started bobbing when the chair slowed down, and he made a woozy noise as he tried looking over to his dad.

“Whoa. There’s two of you!”

“Two? Uh oh. Do you think the aliens cloned me?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Now why would they go and do that?”

“So you can help me build this rocket faster!”

“Oh, right. That _is_ what we’re doing, after all,” Christopher said. He picked up one of the wings and handed it over. “Here. Time to tape them on.”

Castiel watched as he readied two strips of duct tape. Christopher brought over the soda bottles he’d butchered and stuck together so that his son could reach. “See how we cut a notch into the wing? That’s so we can stick it through the side of the bottle instead of just slapping it on with tape. What do you think that does for the wing?”

“Mmm.” Castiel thought it over a moment, looking back and forth between the two. “That makes it more sturdy.”

“Exactly,” Christopher smiled. “Now. Stick the wing in, please. And hold it in place. I’ll tape it up.”

“Okay.”

Castiel did as he was told, and his father did as he said he would. He laid the strips of tape carefully and precisely along the bottle and wing, joining them neatly. Then he pressed the tape down to lock it in place. “Ta da,” he said, taking his hands away. “Test it out. See if it wiggles around at all.”

“Roger that.”

After a brief assessment, Castiel deemed it necessary to add more tape. Christopher followed, and together they repeated the step. “Remember, the more we add, the heavier it gets. Therefore the less high it’ll fly.”

“But it’s tape. It’s not that heavy.”

“Okay, well you’re right about that. But little things, they add up. A hundred doesn’t become a hundred unless there’s a lot of tiny ones tucked inside.”

Castiel didn’t say anything back. He just kept the other two wings in place as his father taped those in place, too.

Christopher took a moment to look around the garage. There really was an excess of classic cars that his father had passed onto him along with the family company. And Christopher, he didn’t know what to do with them. They all just sat in here, collecting dust, slowly rusting away. Only to be dusted and polished a month and another month away. 

“Which one do you think has the best chance at powering a rocket?” Christopher asked, almost absentmindedly so.

“The yellow one,” Castiel said affirmatively, as if he’d thought this through before. He attempted to shake some tape off his finger. It wasn’t working quite as well as he hoped. “It looks like it goes really fast. I think we should use your car, though.”

“My car? But I need that one to drive around town.”

“Nuh uh. Your car is much more special than that.”

“How so?”

Finally the tape lost its grip on his finger. Castiel let it fall to the ground, in case it felt like sticking to him again.

“Because _you_ drive it. And I like when you drive me around in it. So we have to bring it with us.”

“Oh,” Christopher said, quiet. “It’s that simple, huh?”

“And I already stuck those cat stickers all over the glovebox. We can’t leave those behind.”

Christopher laughed. “Even more simple.”

“It’s still important.”

“Yes. Without question.”

It didn’t take long for quality control to check that the wings were secure for sure. All that was left was to install a few windows, and their prototype was ready for a paint job. Referring to their schematics, Castiel drew them in with a marker and Christopher took care in cutting out the holes. Gabriel stopped by to help finish off the last of the grape soda they’d taken from the bottles, and he left reminding them that dinner was almost ready. Castiel wanted to stay once the windows were done and get started with the painting. But Christopher had to remind him that they’d have to start that process outside anyway, and since it was already getting dark they should save that for the morning. A shoulder ride back to the house was enough to coax Castiel away from their project without putting up too big a fuss.

To Christopher’s relief, dinner was civil for once. Hester wasn’t slapping her sibling’s wrists for taking second servings without waiting. Michael kept to himself, no surprise there. Gabriel and Luke were the rowdiest, another no-brainer. But they weren’t so bad. They only spoon-catapulted food at each other  _once_ tonight. Fortunately Castiel seemed too wrapped up in thought to follow suit like the little duckling he was and join them. And Naomi? Well...at least she kept all talk within the small variety.

Civil. Christopher was the head of a civil and functional household. 

That night he put Castiel to bed. The following morning was going to be stuffed to the brim with meetings, so he couldn’t promise they’d get to work on their rocket all day long again for a while. But both were satisfied with the progress they made, so the delay wasn’t a letdown for either.

Christopher tried his best to be a good father. On his way to bed however, he could only hope to at least be a half decent husband too.

He opened the bedroom door. Civil. Christopher was the husband in a civil and functional relationship.

 

 

* * *

 

  

The door to Gabriel’s room closed slow.

There was the sudden drop of weight on the bed behind him, but it was going to take a hell of a lot more than that to actually wake him up. He fought to retain his state of unconsciousness when a small hand tugged on the back of his shirt.

“Gabe.”

He just grunted.

“ _Gabe._ Wake up.”

Okay, so he lied about it taking a hell of a lot more. Sighing, he forced his eyelids open. The glaring red light of his alarm clock offended him greatly. “Dude. It’s 2AM. What are you even doing up?”

“Read to me.”

“What?”

“Can you read to me? Please? I can’t fall asleep.”

Gabriel just blinked his eyes. Castiel took the lack of an apparent answer as invitation to steal his covers and turn on the bedside lamp, apparently.

“Can’t sleep huh? You know, I got a little something in the drawer that helps me fall asleep. Feel free to help yourself to some too, long as you don’t tell Mom or Dad about it. Got a lighter?”

“ _No,_ "Castiel said, smacking his arm. “Smoking’s _bad_. And you shouldn’t do it.”

“I’m _kidding_ ,” Gabriel threw back. “...Sort of. Now go back to bed. Your own bed. And turn the light off on your way out.”

“So you can barge into my room and wake me up all the time, but I can’t to you?”

“Cassie, It’s 2AM. It’s a school night. I’m _tired_. Everyone’s always bothering me, telling me I gotta get my shit together, and right now you’re not helping.” Gabriel pulled his blankets back over and to himself. “So quit being a little brat go to bed.”

There. That should’ve worn him down. Now all Gabriel had to do was close his eyes and wait for him to leave.

And wait.

And wait some more.

Castiel didn’t speak any further, but Gabriel was left waiting.

“Okay. Okay, fine.” He groaned, sitting up. “I'll read to you. What collegiate, Einsteinian, magic outer space mumbo did you unbury this—”

Castiel wasn’t crying, but his eyes were puffy and red. As if he already had been before waltzing on in here.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Gabriel soothed.

Castiel didn't look up at him. He only clung onto his book tighter. Fuck. If only his Awesome Big Brother Mode kicked in when he was cranky and dead tired too. Gabriel placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping that would be at least something.

It was. “I figured out what Mom and Dad are fighting about,” Castiel muttered.

Gabriel tightened his grip. “Hey, it’s not—”

“They’re fighting about _me_.”

A sniffle, and a rub of the eyes. Gabriel didn’t move out of place.

“No they aren’t.”

“Yes, they are. I’ve been hearing them all night.”

Gabriel cleared his throat. He tried on a dismissive tone, hoping that’d be something too. “You mean to tell me you can actually make something out of all that noise?” He pretended to inspect Castiel’s ear. “Huh. Must have some kind of super hearing...”

Castiel smacked his hand away. “No I don’t. And you knew they were fighting about me too.”

“I didn’t—that’s not—” Gabriel sighed. “Look. That doesn’t matter, okay? They fight about a lot of stuff. And they have been for a long time, long before you were ever a twinkle in their eye. So don’t think you can go and take all the credit.”

“That doesn’t make it feel any better.”

“I know.” At that, Gabriel pulled him in for a hug. It wasn’t that long ago he discovered what it felt like not to have his older sibling’s support on the matter. “Trust me, I know.”

“I’m sorry I woke you up and made you mad.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t make me mad. I’m just that age, that average, angsty, stressed out teen. Sometimes I even feel like the chicken and beef we buy at the grocery store...you know, pumped full of all kinds of hormones, as if I ever said I was okay with it. You’ll understand when you get to be this age too.” It was out of habit or defense that Gabriel played these types of situations off as a joke. He held his little brother tighter, hoping that’d make up for it and steer himself clear of it any farther. “And you didn’t make Mom and Dad mad either, okay? They did that to themselves. It has nothing to do with anything you’ve ever said or done. Just because it’s _about_ you, doesn’t mean it’s _because_ of you. Promise.”

Castiel seemed to take his time digesting that. Gabriel wasn’t going to rush it.

Eventually Castiel spoke up. “Can you let go of me? You’re squeezing the book into my ribs.”

“Oh. My bad,” Gabriel said, doing as he was asked. “What book is it anyway?”

“One Dad was reading to me. We left off on the chapter about rings and moons.”

“So you wanna pick up there?” Gabriel held out a hand, offering to take the book.

Castiel handed it over. He shrugged. “I wanted to keep reading about stars.”

“Okay. We’ll do that then.”

Gabriel checked the table of contents to see what was up. About a third of the sections were checked off, especially the earlier ones. “ _Analyzing Starlight_ ,” Gabriel read aloud, pointing to a chapter later on without any checks. “That sound at all interesting to you?”

Castiel nodded.

“Nerd.”

“Shut it.”

“How’d I wind up with such a nerdy little bro, huh?”

Castiel nudged him away, and Gabriel retaliated with a thorough noogie. Castiel laughed, and that was more of a relief to hear than Gabriel thought it would be. For that, he laughed too.

Okay. Analyzing starlight. Gabriel flipped to the corresponding pages, and they started there.

This particular text was layman’s enough for Gabriel to read aloud with ease. He let Castiel take over here and there and helped him out with the bigger words. Castiel’s attention didn’t seem to drift elsewhere, so there was one good sign. When it seemed the reader was starting to nod off, they switched and that kept them on track. Soon enough however, Gabriel found his eyes blinking slow and his mouth slurring its way through details surrounding the so-called “spectra class.” 

“‘...Because a star’s temperature determines which absorption lines are present in its spectrum, these spectral classes are a measure of its surface temperature,’" he recited, then yawned. Again. At this point it was unavoidable. “‘ There are seven standard…’ Hey, is any of this making any sense to you?”

“No.” Castiel set his head on Gabriel’s shoulder, giving into the yawning himself. He pulled the blanket over himself. He smacked his lips. “Turn the page already.”

Gabriel laughed and did what he was told. They continued reading till they couldn’t fight the sleep away anymore.

They got through it together.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Christopher spent the next night setting up Castiel’s new room.

He knew not to get so loud. He knew exactly what Gabriel had to tell him when he requested that they talk somewhere alone that morning. Gabriel didn’t have the energy or care to rush to school. He just wanted the family to act like a family for once. Christopher agreed and said he wanted the same, but that didn’t do much to encourage his son on the way out.

So he rolled up his sleeves. He got through his list of meetings and calls and papers to sign, dutiful. He went out to lunch with clients, and it drug out ninety minutes longer than planned due to gregarious conversation. That earned him and the family a deal, so he told himself it was worth it. It would make Naomi happier, at least. Then he met with Luke and Gabriel’s faculty after school, not too terribly surprised to find out one of them was on the brink of suspension for disrespectful behavior, but apologetic to their principal and teachers nonetheless. The very last thing he wanted to make clear with Luke was how much money they were paying to let him attend the best private school in the area. But quite frankly he was running out of points to make in these increasingly often lectures that took place the car ride home. It all seemed to be disregarded the moment they pulled into the driveway anyway. Christopher didn’t have any time to continue that conversation either; Naomi pulled him right into another slew of meetings soon as he walked through the door.

Then suddenly dinner was happening again. Michael was already nudging the file for tomorrow’s agenda in front of him. Castiel was falling asleep on his mashed potatoes. Gabriel wasn’t even at the table. And Christopher was _tired._ He was so tired it almost didn’t even seem to matter anymore. That’s just what he was becoming. Tired.

But that night he spent it setting up Castiel’s new room. It wasn’t a perfect solution, it wasn’t the right one, but for the time being it was what he could do.

 

 

* * *

 

  

Castiel walked down the hall covering his eyes.

He was nearly bouncing on his toes. “What is it, what is it?”

“I told you,” his father said, guiding him away from the wall just in time, “it’s a surprise. It’s against the rules to tell you any more than that.”

“So? Who’s gonna know, the surprise police?”

“Shush! They’re already on my case for ruining Michael and Hester’s surprise party this year.”

“Oh,” Castiel lowered his voice to a whisper. “Sorry.”

Christopher did the same. “No worries. They might be off duty today after all.”

Castiel gasped. He ripped his hands from his eyes and smiled up at his dad. “So you can tell me??”

Christopher laughed. He set his own hands before Castiel’s eyes and walked him forward. “Come on. We’re almost there.”

The hallway felt much longer to Castiel when he couldn’t see. Especially when there was a surprise waiting at the end of it. He tried peeping through his dad’s fingers, but of course he was careful not to let those come apart.

At last they stopped walking. Christopher turned Castiel’s shoulders to the right. “Okay. I’m going to open the door now. But promise you won’t peek.”

“I promise.”

“Are you sure? You sounded awful mischievous saying that just now.”

Castiel giggled, jumping in place. “I promise, I promise!”

“Alright,” Christopher replied doubtfully, but the turn of the doorknob and the creak of the door sounded anyway. There was the click of the light, and Castiel couldn’t stand it any longer. He opened his eyes.

“Whoa!”

The curtains over the window were wispy and spotted with stars. The door to what must’ve been the closet looked like an airlock. The lamp on the table next to the bed was shaped like a UFO, its base a plastic field of grass with a cow in the middle. When Castiel hopped up to the bed, he saw that a cartoony astronaut suit standing on the moon was printed on the blanket. The drawings and schematics they drew together covered the wall over his new desk. What he was most excited about though, was the shiny telescope pointing out the window and up at the night sky. 

Castiel jumped off the bed and ran over to it. There was a chair sitting low to the ground, but he didn’t bother sitting in it just yet. First, he just had to check this thing out.

He moved it around. He tried messing with the knobs on the side. “I don’t see anything,” he said, moving it around some more.

“Oh, whoops.” Christopher came over and removed the lens cap. Then he turned off the lights. “Forgot to take it off. Try it now.”

Castiel gladly did as he was told. Already there were more stars jittering inside the tiny circle than he could see in the whole sky with his own eyes. “Whoa!” he exclaimed, pointing it in another direction, then another. “I can see a million stars like this!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah! They’re really clear too. Oh! I wanna see what the moon looks like!”

Castiel picked up his head and looked through the window, but the moon was nowhere in sight. Even when he climbed up onto the seat built into the wall to get a wider view, the moon hid elsewhere. 

Christopher took a seat next to him. “The moon should be coming around in a few hours. I think.”

“Will you stay up and wait with me? I really, really wanna see it through the telescope.”

“I can’t for too long. It’s almost my bedtime.”

“Oh, please please please?” Castiel had been graced with exceptionally persuasive puppy dog eyes, and he knew it. Unashamedly he put them on. 

“Okay okay, maybe. If I can manage to stay up that late...”

“Yay! Thank you!” Castiel hugged his father. “Thank you for the new room, too. This is my new room, right?”

“You’re very welcome. And yes, it is.”

“It’s so far up. What floor are we on?”

“The fourth. I figured you could act as our lookout up here, with the big window and all. See if there’s any meteors, or aliens! You never know what you can find looking up at the sky. Maybe you’ll even see a shooting star someday.”

Castiel smiled at the thought. He hopped back to the floor and got to messing around with the telescope again. 

“Make sure you’re careful with that, alright?” his father said. “It’s quite the instrument of knowledge. You should care for it with respect.”

“I will.”

“Far as I could tell from the catalogs, it’s a fairly beginner-friendly telescope. So I trust you’ll figure out how to work it easily enough. When you get bored of that one we can get you a more advanced model. Maybe one you can even put a camera on.”

“I’ll _never_ get bored of this one.”

“Never?”

“Nuh uh. I’ll never get bored of it.”

“Okay. We’ll see what you say ten years from now.”

Castiel found one of the brighter stars. He tried staring at it for a while.

Christopher joined him. He sat down on the chair on the floor and let Castiel settle on his lap. When Castiel spotted something he deemed interesting, he moved over and let his father take a look.

For what must’ve been hours, they took turns looking through the telescope. Each time a set of splattered dots for Christopher, but to Castiel whole other worlds of light and wonder.

“Do you think they ever look back at us?” Castiel asked.

Christopher set his chin atop his son’s head. He closed his eyes. “Someone out there must.”

“Hey. You can’t fall asleep yet. The moon hasn’t shown itself yet.”

“What makes you think I’m falling asleep?”

“I can tell.”

Christopher hummed. “I’m letting you stay up late tonight because this is all a new gift. But you can’t be staying up this every night, you know.”

“Aw, why not?”

“So you can wake up early in the morning and not be so tired.”

“Why do I have to wake up early in the morning?”

“So you can have a long and productive day. Just like your old man.”

“But I can’t see the stars during the day.”

“And that reminds me, don’t go staring into the sun with this thing, okay? You can’t exactly admire the stars if you go blind from the one closest to you.”

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

Castiel yawned. He rubbed his eyes. He looked up out the window and smiled. The night sky really was beautiful.

His father hugged him. After a while, Castiel thought he was about to be carried to bed. But he wasn’t.

“Castiel?”

“What?”

“You...you know we aren’t really going to visit the stars, right? That our prototype is about all we can do?”

Castiel fiddled with the knobs on the telescope, but he didn’t bother to check and see what they did.

“I know.”

Christopher held him tighter. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. We were just playing pretend.”

“Right. Playing pretend…But, you know it’s not impossible, right? It's good to dream big. It’s just that some dreams, they take a lot of work to make come true.”

“Is that why you work really hard?”

“That’s just a force of habit. My dream already came true.”

“Really?” Castiel turned to look at him. His face was hard to see in the dim starlight. “What was it?”

“To have a big, big family. And with five kids I’d say that’s pretty big,” he laughed. “At one point I thought that was impossible for me, with the business and all. It took a lot of work, and a lot of sacrifice, but after all these years I got it. I got Michael and Hester, Luke and Gabe, and I got you. You are all worth every bit of it.

“And that’s the trick. Finding something that’s worth it,” he continued. “That’s how you know you have to make it happen.”

Castiel remained quiet as he absorbed his father’s tidbit of information. Christopher knew that’s part of what made him smart. He was always a good listener.

“The launch tests for our prototype are still scheduled for this weekend, aren’t they?” Castiel asked.

“Yes, they are.”

He smiled at that. “I bet it’s going to fly really high.”

“Oh, just how high do you reckon?”

“One thousand million feet.”

“Mm. That’s a fair estimate.”

“Yeah. Maybe even _two_ thousand million.”

“If it’s going to take that long of a trip, how about you start charting it a course?”

“Charting a course? What do you mean?”

“Well if we’re going to send the prototype that far up, it just might reach outer space. As commander of our crew you need to tell it where to go. Which planets to visit, which starts to circle…”

“Oh! Yeah! I can look at that constellation map in the back of the book and draw out my own map!”

“That could work.”

Castiel nearly got out of his lap to get started, but Christopher stopped him just in time. “Not so fast, little bugger. It’s past your bedtime.”

“Aw, but you let me stay up even later before.”

“Yeah, and I’m starting to sense you’re taking advantage of that.”

“Pretty please?”

“Nope. You can’t get me with those puppy dog eyes this time.”

“Pretty _pretty_ please?”

“Sorry. Not even going to look.”

“But I’m not...that...tired...”

“Try saying that without yawning next time, and maybe I’ll believe it.” 

Castiel gave one last grunt, but that was it. His father showed him how to put the lens cap back on the telescope and instructed him to do so after every use. There was a cluster of glow-in-the-dark stars waiting in the drawer of the nightstand, and Christopher said they could put those up tomorrow night. That was enough to fully appease Castiel, so he crawled into his new bed without any last minute protests he’d thought of on the way over. He crawled underneath the covers and settled in nice.

“Oh—almost forgot about this.” His father knelt over and switched on a nightlight. It had a bright red rocket ship in the middle, with stars taking turns lighting up and circling around it slow. Castiel had always been comfortable with the night, but the light's orange glow felt cozy and soothed him further.

“So,” Christopher sat at the foot of his bed, looking about, “are you happy with your new room?”

Castiel nodded, smiling a sleepy smile. “Yeah. I really like it.”

“I’m happy to hear so. I’m no interior decorator, but I thought this suited you.”

“I think so too.”

At that, Christopher smiled as well. “Alright. Get some rest okay? Gabe told me he’d make breakfast for everyone in the morning. I don’t think you want to miss out on that.”

They exchanged their goodnight’s, and for the first time in weeks Castiel fell asleep easy. He watched his night light glow as he drifted off entirely.

He really did like his new room.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The weather was perfect. The sun was out, the wind was light, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight.

Castiel was the first of his crew to wake up that morning. So he ran down the stairs and for once he was the one to tussle Gabe into the world of beautiful, beautiful consciousness. He would’ve happily gone on to do the same with his father, but Gabe was quick enough to pick him off his feet and stop him. “Ever notice how much of a zombie he’s been lately?” Gabe asked. “Better let him get a few extra winks.”

The talk of breakfast was enough to steer Castiel away from ignoring what his brother said. Like any other Saturday, they sat in front of the TV munching on what should’ve been an illegal brand of cereal. That only hyped Castiel up even more. Gabe was hardly able to hold him down as he went jumping off the couch and somersaulting about.

But who could really blame him? It was finally here.

It was Launch Day.

“Okay, _okay_ ,” Gabriel spoke up after nearly getting kicked in the face. “Next time you try scampering off to wake Dad up, I’m locking you in a cage.”

“Last I checked, we don’t have any cages,” Castiel cleverly recalled, wriggling his toe up his brother’s nose.

Gabe swatted it away. “I’ll drive to the nearest Petco and drop you off. The staff should take care of you from there.”

“No you won’t.”

“My guess is they’ll put you in with the hamsters. If you behave well enough, they probably won’t feed you to the snakes.”

“You’re a snake.”

“What? I’m a Dobermann, at least.”

Castiel went on giggling and extracting random sounds out of the word “Dobermann.” It didn’t take long for Gabe to smack a hand over his brother's mouth. He refused to remove it, even after it was licked.

“Dude, you do not wanna know what I did with that hand last night,” Gabe warned. That didn’t phase him in the slightest. For his little brother’s sake he relented his hold. “Hey, how about this? How about we fashion ourselves some...astronaut helmets!”

That got him to shut up. “Astronaut helmets?”

“Uh huh. Like the one our pal Marvin’s got. Or one even better.”

At that, Castiel sat himself upright and stayed sitting. “Okay!”

Leaving their cereal bowls and morning cartoons behind, Gabriel carried him piggyback to the garage easily enough. Heh. Score one for Gabe.

They searched through a pile of cardboard boxes to find the right size. Sharpies, glitter glue, and Mr. Sketch markers were used (Gabe kept the boxcutter to himself and helped his brother with that part). By the time they waltzed out of there, no alien riffraff was safe on their planet. Not even the Zognoid Lukus the Terrible, from Plarxas X-50.

“I just want to grab the mail in peace,” Luke said, dry as ever. Gabe just nerfed him in the back again, Castiel gladly following suit. 

“He’s relaying a message back to his home planet. We can’t let him escape!” Gabe exclaimed.

“Oh no! He’s getting away in his ship!”

“Just let me grab the mail in peace.”

“Sabotage the engines! Take out the tailight! That’ll get him pulled over for sure.”

“Roger that!”

“Oh my god.”

Lukus the Terrible managed to take off, but not without Gabe shooting a tracker on the bumper of his ship. That was a win in his eyes. Castiel felt the same.

They walked back to the house victorious, where their father was in the kitchen fixing a pot of tea. He offered some to them both, but Gabriel said they didn’t need any of his “nasty leaf piss.” Ignoring that little jab, Christopher said they could go on ahead and ready the launchpad without him. He’d be out in the yard after breakfast.

And he was. Gabriel was relieved nothing got in his way and made him take any longer than he had; Castiel was bouncing around him without a second thought, ready to get started.

Some form of an unveiling ceremony was slapped together as Castiel carried the bottle rocket into the yard. Gabriel turned on the shop radio to his favorite station. Def Leppard “”Let’s Get Rocked” seemed appropriate enough, so he cranked it louder as the garage door rolled open. As the sunlight hit him, Castiel marched out with the rocket held high over his head. He had the most serious of looks on his face. And with his father flashing a camera, Castiel tried to maintain that face even harder.

“Rolling out of the hangar now is our very own Castiel Novak,” Gabriel announced to absolutely no one and to all of the world. “With him he carries the one and only Star Skipper Mark I. Personally I would’ve named it Jefferson Starship, but who the hell am I! Designer, engineer, and commander of this piece’a work, Castiel is the youngest person to ever send a rocket into space. Now, I know what you’re thinking, ladies. Daring, handsome, _and_ smart? What a guy! Give it up for my little brother Cassie!”

Okay, his serious face had to falter at that. Castiel shot his brother a look as he set the rocket in the grass. Gabriel just cheered him on. 

“And here’s his proud father with something to say.” Gabriel slung his arm around his father’s shoulders, shoving a pretend microphone beneath his chin. “Tell us, Chris. How’s it feel to see your son march the March of Greats?”

“Well, I think it’s safe to say I knew he’d make it this far. I just didn’t think it’d be so soon. Here’s to hoping my son doesn’t peak at the age of six.”

“Such a heartwarming speech. Onto you little dude, what do you gotta say to the people?”

Castiel looked down at his feet. Then up his brother. 

“I’m hungry.”

“You heard it here first, folks! Heroes get hungry just like you. So don’t forget to catch a hotdog or beer from a concessions vendor near you! No need to leave your stand, no need to sneak in your own reasonably priced junk food! Just thirty bucks a pop, and you’re set to fly!”

“What are you talking about?”

“World build—dude, I’m world building. Shush.”

“Oh.”

Their father came over with a liter of water to ready the rocket. He poured it in while Castiel held the bottle and the funnel in place, and Gabriel announced to the “people” that they were fueling it up. With a cork Christopher sealed the opening. After attaching the bike pump and setting it upright on the stand made of an old sprinkler, the rocket was ready to launch. They took a celebratory picture with all three of them before doing anything else.

“Anyone in the splash zone better put on their parkas,” Gabriel said, “because we are prepared for liftoff!”

“Stand back, Castiel,” Christopher instructed gently. Castiel promptly did what was asked of him, and Gabriel offered him a shoulder ride to keep it that way.

“Engines stabilized, thrusters are a go,” Christopher said, double-checking to make sure everything was in its place. He gave a confident thumbs up. “Alright. I think we’re set. Someone going to count us down?”

“Oh! Me, me!” Castiel waved his hands.

“Well then, at your command.”

Castiel grinned. He and Gabe made eye contact, and they started together from “Ten.” With every number Christopher pressed down on the bike pump. The closer they approached “One,” the more loud Castiel got. Gabriel could only follow suit, his little brother’s excitement always contagious.

Castiel wasn’t really expecting it, but the rocket took off right as he yelled, “Zero!” And boy did that thing fly. One moment it was on the ground, and the next he was craning his neck just to catch up. It flew stories. Hundreds of feet. It was a speck in the sky and its paint shone in the sun. Only when the parachute deployed and it started its gentle descent did Castiel realize he was cheering.

Gabe was too. “Holy shit. That thing actually took off!”

“No kidding,” Christopher laughed. He had to block the sun from his eyes.

“We did it!” Castiel exclaimed, throwing his arms up. “The test was a success!”

“Mission status: Awesome!” Gabriel lifted a hand for a well deserved high-five. Castiel didn’t leave him hanging.

“Well, let’s hope the wind doesn’t kick up anymore than it has up there…” Christopher mumbled.

Gabriel looked up at his brother. He raised a brow. “Race you to the landing site?”

Castiel’s eyes went wide. “Beam me down.”

“You got it.”

Soon as his feet touched the ground, Castiel went running. He yelled for their dad to follow, but he stayed behind and let them have their fun. No matter. Castiel was determined to get to the landing site first. No way he was going to slow down and let his brother win.

Back in the yard, Hester asked that their father turn the music off and calm his obnoxious children down. “Especially Gabe,” she added rather sourly. 

Christopher nodded, but he only lowered the music to background levels of noise. He didn’t have the heart to tell Gabe and Castiel to quiet their mouths as they came rushing back, rocket ship intact and in hand. 

“You should’ve seen it, Dad,” Castiel said. “Gabe got in front of me, and he looked at me like, ‘Oh, try and catch up to this’ and I looked at him like, ‘Yeah, just watch me,’ and then he tripped and fell on his dumb face like a clutz and I jumped over him and I won. I got to the rocket first.”

“Hey, that’s—” Gabe lifted a finger to object. Then he shrugged. “I can't lie. That’s exactly what happened.”

Christopher knelt down in front of Castiel to inspect the wings. “I’m glad to see the rocket somewhat stuck its landing. The test was a success after all.” He looked Castiel in the eye. “Know what that means?”

“What?”

Christopher smiled. “We can launch it again.”

At that, Castiel gasped. “Yeah! Let’s do that again!”

“Okay, I’ll go get more water. You two better not launch that thing at any windows while I’m away.”

“Okay!”

“No promises, pops.”

“I mean it Gabe. Be a good role model. Set a good example, be the responsible sibling. All that crap...”

“Oh yeah. Sounds like you totally mean it.”

Christopher aimed at him a cautionary “I’m watching you” signal, then he disappeared into the house.

And before Castiel could go off and run circles into the dirt, Gabriel snagged him by the collar and made him stand still. 

“Hey. Hold an a sec.”

“I heard Dad too. I’m not gonna destroy anything.”

“That’s not what I’m stopping you for.”

Gabriel knelt down to his level. He looked Castiel in the eye. He smiled. “Good job, dude. Your little science project didn’t crash and burn after all.”

“Dad helped with a lot of it. You did too.”

“True, but trust me. I highly doubt this ever would’ve happened if you hadn’t been so determined to get it done. That’s what made us so determined to help you out too, you know. Plus your nagging. All of your nagging.”

Castiel gave him a look. Seeming to ignore it, his brother went on, “And I’m sure you’re aware of how uh...how crazy it gets around here. It’s nice to have some fun for once.”

“Tell me about it.”

Gabriel laughed, nodding. He looked up at the sky. Fluffy clouds rolled in the purple of his sunglasses.

“So what’s next, huh?" He asked. "A ray gun? A freaking portal to another dimension?”

“Mm. I was thinking more like a triple decker turkey sandwich.”

“Hey, I like the sound of that.”

“You can join if you want. But first, we gotta launch this thing at least fifty more times.”

“At least? You kidding me? I say a hundred more times, _at least._ ”

Castiel laughed. Gabe ruffled his hair and stood. Their father was back with the water soon enough, and as a crew they prepared the rocket for launch yet again. Throughout the morning and into the afternoon, they set it off. They competed to see who could launch it the highest. They sent it over the house. They sent it into the sky. Christopher and Gabe took turns taking pictures. By the time they were done, the camera was out of film. 

That was one of Castiel's most favorite days. Because that day, they really did launch a rocket in the backyard. That day, it really felt possible to reach the stars.

Castiel framed his favorite picture. He kept the rest inside the drawer of his desk. They made him happy. They made him smile when he thought he had no reason to. They never collected any dust.

And he never threw them out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for indulging in my little fic. i appreciate your time spent doing so ❤
> 
> The quote Gabriel reads from the book that Castiel brings him is from an online version of _Astronomy _by Andrew Fraknio, David Morrion, and Sidney C. Wolff. Not sure if it's necessary to mention that, but I figured I might as well.__


End file.
